Don't You Remember?
by thelilacfield
Summary: Memories are to be held close to our hearts. Memories are precious. Memories are terrible to lose and hard to find again.


**Fun fact****: **This fic is exactly 10K words. No more, no less. Whatever the ffn word count says ;)

So, this wishes a big big BIG (late) HAPPY BIRTHDAY to **MAD**! Happy birthday, hun, I'm sorry I'm late. I hope it was epic and you got everything you wanted! :D

* * *

><p><span>Don't You Remember?<span>

"This won't hurt a bit."

Oh, but it does. It's a haze of _redredred _pain and black dots flashing in front of her eyes.

"You won't remember a thing."

The pain is unbearable and she opens her mouth to let out an agonised scream.

"_Obliviate_."

…

_Pain. Talking. Pain. Lights. Pain. Footsteps. Pain. Pain. Pain._

She opens her eyes slowly, a pain building up in her head. She can't do anything about it; it just builds and builds until it leaves her in a scream that makes fast footsteps start.

"Lucy, are you alright?" She looks up, blinking in the bright light, and sees a haze of blonde-hair-brown-eyes-mouth-turned-down.

"My head!" she screams and tears are rolling unbidden down her cheeks. The blonde-brown-turned-down person turns and yells for something: a Healer.

"It's alright, just tell us what happened to you." There are strange people hovering around her and horrible rubber gloves on her skin and she screams and screams.

"Leave her alone!" This sounds like a girl, and she turns her head painfully to see a girl with bright red hair, tears in her eyes, screaming at the Healer.

"Do you remember what happened to you?" This question comes from a woman with wrinkles around burnished blue eyes and gold hair around her pale face.

"Who are you?" she screams. "Leave me alone!"

"Why is she screaming that?" the blonde woman asks. The Healer looks down at her for a moment.

"It's a memory charm, madam. She doesn't know who she is or who any of us are. I'm sorry, but we'll have to take her upstairs."

"You're not throwing her in the magical loony bin!" the blonde-haired person yells. The Healer leans down and looks her in the eye.

"Miss, we can make you better if you come with us," it says. She looks around at lots of people, blurry faces she doesn't recognise.

"Okay," she says, sliding from the surface she's been lying on and following the Healer from the ward. She looks back to see the girl with bright red hair and the blonde woman crying.

She follows the Healer through lots of loud, busy corridors and up some stairs that trip her up. A big door to a shiny white room opens, showing people lying on beds and a pretty red rose climbing the wall.

"This is the permanent spell damage ward," the Healer says, pointing her to a neatly made bed. "You can stay here while we assess the extent of your brain damage. Excuse me, I have to go and talk to your family."

She sits on the edge of the bed, swinging her legs back and forth as the doors clunk shut. It's quite a nice room and the other people in the beds look at her with smiles on their faces. She doesn't know what they're assessing, but staying here will be fun.

…

"How is she?" Audrey asks, wringing her hands. "Why did we leave her alone in the house like that?"

"Evidently someone broke in while you were gone and tortured her," Healer Cross informs the gathering to a number of shocked gasps and a sob from Molly. "Her system and the head pains she is experiencing point to extensive use of the Cruciatus Curse on her body. She's lucky she wasn't tortured to insanity like the poor late Longbottoms."

"Is she going to get better?" Lorcan asks. "Will she remember everything?"

"It's too early to tell," Healer Cross answers. "She may recover, as many of our patients have before, but she may not. If she does not recover and never remembers anything of her life, there will be great decisions to make. But we'll overcome the hurdle if we ever come to it."

"Can we see her?" Molly asks, tears streaming from her eyes. "Please?"

"Not all of you at once, you'll scare her," Healer Cross says sternly. "Maybe four or five at a time."

"Come on, Lorcan, Lysander," Molly says, grabbing her boyfriend's hand and jerking her head at the door before following her parents inside. Lucy's already asleep, still in her favourite white dress, her hair spread out over the pillow and her face looking so peaceful.

"Please get better, Luce," Lorcan says softly, bending to press a kiss to her forehead. "You have to remember all our times." Molly smiles sweetly down at her slumbering sister. Her mother cries and her father slips an arm around both of them and steers them from the room.

"I love you," Lorcan whispers as he pushes the door to leave. "No matter what." He looks down at her, so innocent in sleep, and sighs to himself as he walks through the doors and leaves a ward full of those damaged permanently by spells.

"Light out!"

With those words from the Healer in attendance, the lights flicker off. Lorcan turns his back on the room. All he can do is pray she'll remember one day.

One day soon.

…

"_Lorcan, you made lemonade!" she shrieks in excitement. He smiles, nodding and handing her a glass of the deliciously cool drink._

"_I made it for you, because I know how much you love it," he says, lovingly meshing their fingers together. "Love you, Lucy."_

"_Love you too, Lorcan." Their lips meet in a kiss that tastes of lemons and sunshine. His hands roam across her back, his touch teasing moans from her sugar-coated lips._

_And then the red pain breaks through._

"Calm down, miss, you're safe here."

With cool hands holding her wrists and ankles against the mattress she slowly stops screaming and thrashing and slumps into the soft surface.

"Nightmare?" a pretty brunette in green robes asks.

"I was dreaming about summer and me and lemonade and a boy named Lorcan," she recounts slowly. The brunette's eyes widen and she pulls a stick from her pocket and whispers frantically into its tip.

"It's breakfast time!" a tall man shouts in a sing-song voice, pulling a trolley laden with bowls and plates behind him. "Toast or cereal or perhaps a fry-up for you, miss?"

"What's a fry-up?" she asks. The man regards her for a moment before handing her a plate laden with delicious food.

"Bacon, eggs, tomatoes and toast," he informs her. "I'll be back in a minute with the tea and coffee and pumpkin juice. Eat up, little lady." She smiles at him and pick up a fork, wielding it with all the expertise of a young toddler. The pretty brunette swoops in with tissues to go on her lap and around her neck and to dab up the spillages.

"You'll remember how to do it soon," the brunette reassures her. She just nods and keeps eating the delicious food.

"I want fry-ups for breakfast and lunch and dinner every day!" she proclaims as she slides her knife and fork neatly together on an empty plate. When the man returns she drinks a cup of sugary coffee and smiles at him in thanks.

"What do you want to do today, Lucy?" the brunette asks in a cheery voice, plumping pillows and straightening blankets, flicking the stick at the windows so the white curtains flutter aside and the windows open.

"I want to wash and then I'd like to draw, please," she says. The brunette nods and leads her to a bathroom tiled in white and pale green, serene, calming colours.

"Here you are, Lucy, and you may call me Anna," Anna says, pointing out hair products, tubes of creams and gels for her skin and handing her a bright orange toothbrush. "Shout if you need help." She nods in acknowledgement of Anna and steps into the shower. Something in her subconscious tells her to twirl the dial, so she does, and warm water streams over her.

After fifteen minutes of rubbing shampoo into her long golden hair and letting the hot water and smell of roses wash over her, she steps out into the bathroom and wraps a white fluffy towel around herself. She brandishes the orange toothbrush and brushes her teeth for a long time. With her hair dangling down past her shoulders, clad in nothing but a towel, she ventures out into the ward.

"Your family left us some of your clothes," Anna says, handing her a pale blue skirt and white shirt. "Your sister informed us this is one of your favourite outfits." She smiles and slips back into the bathroom to dress herself.

She leaves with her hair still wet and Anna beckons her over. There's a silence between them while Anna rubs her hair dry and carefully pins it up.

"Perfect, you can draw to your heart's content now," Anna says with a sweet smile. She smiles back and takes the proffered paper and pencil, turning to find something to draw.

…

"I'm going to visit her every day until she gets better," Lorcan announces as the lift finally arrives on the right floor. Looking nauseous, Molly stumbles out of the tiny room and leans against the wall while Lorcan and Lysander check the board to find where Lucy is.

"I _hate _those things," Molly moans, her legs shaking. Lysander puts an arm around her waist, supporting her. Watching them, Lorcan almost cries, because the girl he should have his arm around is currently lying on a hospital bed and can't remember any of them.

They find their way through a maze of corridors, crowded with Healers and patients and push open the heavy doors to the correct ward.

Lorcan gasps in shock, because Lucy isn't lying helplessly on her bed like he thought she would be. She's sitting in the middle of the floor, her favourite blue skirt spread around her, her mass of golden hair attempting to escape the pins holding it back and a pencil in her hand.

"What you drawing, Luce?" Lysander asks, bending down to look at the paper.

"The rose," Lucy informs them in a soft, sweet voice, her eyes never leaving the paper. "Why do you call me 'Luce'?"

"Your name's Lucy and we nicknamed you Luce," Lysander explains gently. "Don't you remember?"

"My name is Lucy?" Lucy asks, her eyes wide and innocent as she looks trustingly up at Lysander.

"Yes, your name is Lucy. Your full name is Lucy Audrey Weasley," Molly tells her, tears blooming afresh in her eyes as she looks down at her sister. "You're my sister. I'm Molly Penelope Weasley. Our parents are Percy and Audrey Weasley."

"Lucy Audrey Weasley," Lucy says slowly, trying out the name. "You are Molly Penelope Weasley, my sister. My parents are Percy and Audrey Weasley."

"Yes, that's right," Molly praises. "This boy is Lysander Scamander, he's my boyfriend."

"What's 'boyfriend'?" Lucy asks. Molly looks to both Lorcan and Lysander for help, but they just shrug.

"Well, I'm his girlfriend and we love each other and we kiss," she explains hesitantly. Lucy smiles.

"Oh, I get it. Love is a good thing. Worth fighting for." Molly's eyes fill with tears at this sign that her sister remembers all those talks under the covers at night, that whoever did this didn't manage to wipe all her memories.

"Do you remember me, Lucy?" Lorcan asks with renewed hope. "Do you remember Lucy-and-Lorcan?"

"I had dream last night about me and lemonade and summer and a boy named Lorcan," Lucy says dreamily and Lorcan's heart misses a beat. She remembers, even if it's only in dreams.

"That was me and we are - were? - together," he tells her. But nothing sparks in her eyes, no recognition. She doesn't remember him and her - _them_.

"Fly, little bird," Lucy sighs. Lorcan wonders what she's seen before he sees the beautiful green-and-yellow bird preening itself on the window ledge. At Lucy's words, it flies off to a gale of bell-like giggles from Lucy. Lorcan can't help the smile that comes over his face at her laughter.

"You'll remember soon," he assures her, kissing her cheek. She puts a finger to the spot where his lips touched her skin and a smile of alarming sweetness spreads across her delicately blushing cheeks.

"Thank you," she whispers. She pulls him back down when he moves to stand up and kisses his cheek in return. "Will you come back tomorrow?"

"Of course," Molly says, dropping to hug her sister. Lysander does the same and they leave with a wave and lots of promises to come back tomorrow.

"I think she's starting to remember," Molly says as they begin to climb the stairs to the café.

"We mustn't get ahead of ourselves," Lysander says, taking Molly's hand. "We'll just have to hope and pray."

Lorcan suppresses tears that threaten to fall when he sees the love between Molly and Lysander, remembering when he and Lucy were like that, before this whole mess.

And he prays harder than ever.

…

"Oh, that's a beautiful drawing, Lucy," Anna says, peering over Lucy's shoulder when she comes round plumping the pillows and closing the curtains, with the man behind her, serving dinner. "Do you like drawing?"

"I th-think so," Lucy says hesitantly, her pencil pausing on the page. A collage flashes through her mind of willow trees and bluebirds and a blonde-haired boy roaring with laughter. She trembles and blinks hard. The images leave, but the image of that boy is still very much at the forefront of her mind.

"I want to go home," she says shakily. Anna pauses, looking in confusion at her. "I want to go back and live with Mum and Dad and Molly. Please."

Anna moves away, out of the doors and into the corridor. The doors clatter shut and an old woman lying in the bed beneath the window jumps.

"I made a fry-up for you, Lucy," the serving man says, smiling as he hands her a plate. She smiles back and starts eating.

Anna returns with a new man. He's tall, with dark hair and fuzzy eyebrows and he looks down at Lucy with an expression that looks like something between sadness and anger.

"Miss Weasley, Healer Pedesco tells me you wish to return to your place of residence," he says. At her look of confusion, he amends, "Anna tells me you want to go home."

"Yes please," she replies, and the tall man sighs heavily. He waves a stick like Anna's and murmurs some funny words and a skinny dog with mournful eyes, made of a silver mist, runs around the room and jumps out of the window.

"The thing is, Miss Weasley, you need very particular care and medical attention," fuzzy-eyebrow-man says. "It's something that your parents may not be able to provide for you."

He stands still for a long time and doesn't speak, so Lucy doesn't either. She knows that she shouldn't speak until he does. Finally, another silver animal returns, though this one is a mouse.

"Our daughter will be perfectly provided for, thank you very much," it squeaks, and Lucy smiles at its beauty and little voice. "We will be straight there to collect her."

Fuzzy-eyebrow-man sighs heavily again and shakes his head as the mouse disappears into mist. Lucy laughs and reaches out to grab at the silvery tendrils.

"We should get you ready to go home," Anna says, helping her out of bed and fussing around, finding a coat, shoes and a suitcase for all her other clothes.

Lucy just stands in the middle of it all, still in shock. She's going home.

_She__'s going home._

…

Lorcan is woken as the inky sky turns slowly to grey dawn light, Lysander standing over him with a smile across his face, already dressed.

"Lorc, Molly just flooed me!" he exclaims. "St. Mungo's is letting Lucy out and she's wondering if we wanna go there and collect her!" Lorcan sits up straight, already reaching for yesterday's discarded clothes.

"Wait for me, I'll be just a tick-tock on the clock," he says, trying to yank on jeans and unbutton his pyjama top. Lysander grins at his twin and stands guard outside the door, chuckling softly to himself at the thuds and muttered swearwords that come from inside.

"Ready!" Lorcan exclaims, stumbling out of the room with mismatched socks and a hairstyle that points to him being electrocuted. Instead of doing the polite thing and telling him, Lysander just sniggers to himself all the way through the floo to St. Mungo's.

They find Molly, Audrey and Percy already there, all wearing coats over their pyjamas and looking so happy, despite the shock they've just received.

"You two took your time!" Molly exclaims, tackling the pair of them in a hug that knocks their heads together.

"I blame Lorc," Lysander remarks with a wink. "He's just _so _difficult to wake up." Healer Cross walks out of a side door and they're all immediately silent, watching as a blonde hunched up inside a baggy coat follows her into the foyer.

Lucy looks about six years old with her hair in bunches and the coat reaching almost to her ankles and Lorcan has to restrain himself from just taking her in his arms and kissing her senseless.

"Hello," Lucy says uncertainly. "Mum, Dad, Molly, Lysander, Lorcan." She meets the eyes of each person she speaks to and holds Lorcan's for the longest, seeming to fall into some sort of trance.

"Oh, Lucy!" Audrey sobs, bursting into tears and falling on her daughter, hugging her tightly. They watched Lucy uncertainly put her arms around her mother, noticing the similarities between mother and daughter.

Percy joins the hug and for a moment the couple hug their daughter and each other, a beautiful little family. Molly joins them, the family caught in a four-way hug. Lorcan and Lysander stand awkwardly on the edges.

"Godric, boys, come here," Audrey murmurs, holding an arm out to them. Lysander bounds eagerly forward, his burnt and bitten arms going straight to Molly, a true couple.

Lorcan is slightly hesitant, wary of touching Lucy for fear of losing all restraint. But Percy pulls him in, the older man's sobs echoing in his ears. Lorcan turns within the group and sees Lucy's achingly familiar sweet smile. She's radiating light and happiness as Lysander tackles her from behind, knocking her into Lorcan.

By some incredible strength, he manages to stop himself from kissing her. Instead, he puts an arm around her shoulders and supports her as a still-weeping Audrey throws powder into the flames and they step in pairs back through the fireplace.

Lucy stumbles as they crash land in Audrey's living room, scattering ash across the rug and coughing in the smoke. Lorcan holds her up, brushing ash from her shoulders and toying with curls of her hair.

"Do I live here?" she asks, looking around at furniture scratched by family cats, photographs on the wall and the ancient dusty gramophone that once belonged to her great-grandmother.

"Yeah, we all four live here," Molly answers, flopping into the red armchair and smoothing the fur of the cat that leaps onto her lap. "Lorcan will show you your room."

Taking Lucy's trusting hand, Lorcan guides her up the stairs, over the various cats lounging across the carpet and using the stair rail as a scratching post. Lucy grips his hand and looks with nervous eyes around at the home that should be so familiar to her, jumping at the creaky floorboards and rattling pipes.

They reach her bedroom and he switches on the light, blinking to keep back tears as she steps through the doorway and looks around in wonder. Everything is the same as it was before, down to the sweet smell of baking and spring flowers that always follows wherever Lucy goes.

"This is my room?" she asks. "It's so _pretty_." She looks around at the serene blue and white colour scheme, the photos and drawings pinned to her corkboard, the bookcase stretching from floor to ceiling and the wardrobe bursting at the seams with colourful clothes and piles of paper.

"It's time for bed," he says, pulling the heavy coat from her thin frame and hanging it on the back of the door. She crosses the carpet and slides into her bed, still looking around in wonder and everything. She smiles and briefly strokes the nose of the enormous plush zebra sitting at the end of her bed.

Lorcan turns to pull the lacy curtains shut and switch on the nightlight. He barely takes a minute, yet Lucy is asleep when he turns back to her.

He looks up at the picture taking pride of place in the centre of her display. The two of them stand together, laughter etched all over her still face, their clasped hands visible at the bottom of the frame and his lips on her temple. He holds back tears that threaten to rise in his throat and kisses Lucy's forehead.

"Please remember," he whispers, looking at her peaceful sleeping face. He leaves, closing the door on her and the stars swirling across the dark room.

Collapsing against the wall, he covers his face with his hands and cries until the tears just can't come anymore.

Then he prays.

…

She awakes in terror, with the memory of the red pain searing into every part of her still fresh. Except the real vision making the scream build up inside her is that of Lorcan and endless days of summer, hearts carved into trees and laughter echoing through the black empty void in her memory.

She ventures out into the house, the lace edging of her nightdress brushing against her knees. She finds Molly downstairs, emptying cans of some lumpy-jelly substance into bowls, surrounded by mewing cats brushing against her legs.

"Morning, Luce," she says easily, tossing the empty cans towards a blue box and backing out of the cat crowd. "Sleep well? I was just feeding the cats."

"Quite well, thank you," Lucy says shyly, and it's stupid because this is her _sister_, but to be honest she barely remembers anything about her. "Is it breakfast time yet?"

Molly looks astonished. "Didn't know it was your style to even be awake at this time, let alone want breakfast before ten, but I can make porridge if you want it." Lucy nods eagerly, watching in awe as her sister prepares an enormous bowl of porridge, dividing it into four and handing one to her.

"This is really tasty!" Lucy exclaims in surprise as she eats. "I was hungry." Molly smiles and shows Lucy where everything is to wash the dishes. One cat, a sleek ginger tabby, detaches itself from the group and comes to wind around Lucy's legs as she scrubs at lumps of porridge.

"Get _off _me, Kitchen!" she exclaims, nudging him away with her foot. "I'm trying to do human things!" Kitchen entirely ignores her, purring and covering her in his hairs.

Molly smiles and shoos all the cats into the room she calls the 'cat room', filled with scratching posts and toys and various treats hidden in hard-to-reach places. Unburdened of an eager cat, Lucy drifts upstairs to change, finding a floaty blue skirt and adding a white blouse and tiny silver earrings shaped like cats. Discovering perfume and a few odd bits of make-up on her desk, she sets about putting it on with an instinct that even a memory charm couldn't rid her of.

Feeling like herself, sinking into the familiar softness of her clothes, she follows Molly - dressed in a bright yellow dress with her hair tumbling in a mass of curls around her shoulders - out into the garden, climbing into a toothpaste-striped hammock and trailing one bare foot through the sweet-smelling grass.

"You like it here?" Molly asked, lowering a fat book and looking across at Lucy, gazing dreamily at clouds drifting lazily across a sky of burnished blue.

"It's so beautiful," Lucy murmurs, shading her eyes to examine a cloud that looks just like a banana. "I just wish I remembered more about it."

Molly looks over at her sister, examining the shining golden curls and smooth skin, the long curly lashes lowered over bright blue eyes, wishing that too. Lucy's normal mannerisms are all around this girl - the tilt of her head, her habit of trailing one foot through the grass, her dreamy smile - but she's different.

"You _will _remember," Molly assures her. "I promise you." Lucy just nods, her eyes trained on the sky.

"Do you think that cloud looks like a butterfly?" she asks, pointing. Molly sighs and watches her sister, a small smile playing at her lips. It's this childish innocence that really breaks her heart, something rarely seen in their cynical world.

Molly has all the political affiliations, all the experience of the cold, hard world, all the losses she's suffered inked through the lines on her face for all to see. Since the accident, Lucy's face is unlined, innocent, smiling easily at everything, no suffering in her gentle blue eyes.

And it will fall to Molly to teach her of the hardships in the world, of the struggles to gain equal rights for werewolves and Muggleborns, of their Aunt Hermione's fights with the Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to gain rights for house elves, of the harsh reality within the world they live in.

But first, to teach her the family folklore again. With Lucy's eyes wide and her attention rapt as the first time their father read the Narnia books aloud to them, Molly tells the story of how their parents first connected through a mutual dislike of the Ministry memo system, of James and Dominique's brief rebellion when they pretended to date and slept in bus shelters, of Hugo's love affair with peanut butter, of the time Louis was turned into a screeching, annoying ball of energy by caffeine-rich Muggle energy drinks, of Victoire's first hilarious experience with drunkenness, of Teddy's crazy affair with Lily and of Rose and Fred's kiss on a dare and too much Firewhisky.

"Tell me about Lorcan and Lysander," Lucy whispers when Molly finally finishes a tale of woe, the story of Roxanne's lost stash of sweets and Fred's Sherlock Holmes style detective work to discover the chocolate bars and sugar quills hidden under James' bed.

"They're both intelligent, Ravenclaws when we were at Hogwarts," Molly explains. "They're big fans of the Beatles and Queen, old Muggle bands. Lysander loves animals; he has a pet unicorn called Homer. He named it after his favourite character from a Muggle cartoon TV show, the Simpsons. He also has a salamander called Dalek, after these robotic monsters from another Muggle TV show."

"Doctor Who!" Lucy exclaims. "Yeah, I remember that. The Slitheen were really creepy!"

Molly smiles and continues. "Lorcan's a musician and his guitar is called Milhouse. That's the name of _his _favourite character from the Simpsons. He tried to teach Lysander to play the tambourine, but didn't succeed. He's very possessive about his guitar and won't let anyone touch it without permission. He nearly killed Scorpius once."

"Tell me more about Lorcan and Lysander, please," Lucy requests, rolling onto her front and propping her chin up on cupped hands.

"Lorcan's favourite colour is so-called 'honey brown'," Molly says, sketching quotation marks around the words, "because it's the colour of _Milhouse_. Lysander's favourite is red or silver, which is easier to understand, seeing as Homer is silver and Dalek is red. Lorcan's wand is oak and Lysander's is willow. Their birthday is the fourteenth of July, exactly a week before ours. They always have two cakes because Lorcan loves chocolate sponge but Lysander can't stand it and prefers to have a giant chocolate éclair."

"How can you not like chocolate sponge?" Lucy exclaims in astonishment. Molly just shrugs and continues her story, pulling up information from the very dregs of her memory.

"They have a rocking horse that their parents gave to them for their seventh birthday. It's called Carrot and apparently enjoys eating sugar lumps and riding through the Wild West. Lysander likes science fiction novels but Lorcan prefers fantasy stuff, like the Lord of the Rings. Interestingly, Lorcan will sit through even a romantic comedy but Lysander is scrambling to get out at the slightest hint of romance other than crude double meanings. He really likes action movies, like James Bond, and he's a _big _fan of cartoons. The Simpsons and Spongebob Squarepants are his favourites. Lorcan likes artistic films with interesting camera angles and spectacular special effects. He likes historical stuff too and really old stuff like Disney films. He knows the every word to thirty-seven Disney songs and the guitar tunes to twenty-six." Molly finally pauses for breath and Lucy seems satisfied with this information.

"What was I like?" she asks. "Before the accident?" Molly looks astonished at this latest question but prepares herself to explain.

"You were…you were my sister, Lucy Audrey Weasley," she says, a lump rising in her throat. "You loved fairytales, flowers, daydreaming, art and riding along in a car with your head sticking out of the window and the wind in your face. You hated flying except on the back of only one person's broom. You couldn't cook at all, but you loved my gingerbread and chocolate biscuits. Aunt Angelina taught you to make curry, but you always put too much chilli in. You helped Hugo to make the metal castle that stands in Granny and Grandpa Weasley's front room every Christmas. You painted it. You once helped James and Louis steal some of Roxanne's sweets, but paid for it in Sickles."

"Was I nice?" Lucy asks. The questions are coming thick and fast now, a new curiosity that seems almost familiar. "Did I have a boyfriend? Any enemies? Was I a good sister to you?"

"You were the nicest person I've ever met," Molly whispers, tears filling her eyes. "You never willingly hurt anything, not even a bug. When we were seven you cried for two days when you accidentally drowned a spider in the shower. Even when we were fourteen you made Dominique write a poem for a ladybird she squashed practicing her Muggle self-defence. No one was your enemy or, if they were, they didn't claim it. No one ever said they disliked you, even behind your back. The teachers at Hogwarts all adored you, even though you weren't particularly good at many subjects except Herbology, Astronomy and Divination.

"You were the most amazing sister I could ever wish for. You sacrificed your own happiness when we were thirteen and clashed in a crush on Drake Fawcett. You let me date him and then let me cry on your shoulder when he broke up with me, cheering me up by saying he looked like a goose and reassuring me that another boy would fall in love with me quick as a flash. You've been there for me since the day we were born, right up to buying Mum and Dad a present for their anniversary last month and signing it from me when I forgot." Molly sighs. "I still owe you seventeen Galleons for that cuckoo clock."

"Did I have a boyfriend?" Lucy asks again. Molly takes in a deep breath, wondering how best to regale her sister with the tale of her romance with Lorcan.

"Yes, you did," she finally says. Lucy looks wide-eyed, interested beyond anything she's listened to before and edging closer to better hear. "Lorcan Scamander, the boy with the guitar named Milhouse and lovely tawny eyes."

"How long have we been to-together?" Lucy asks, faltering slightly over the last word. "Was he the one whose broom I could enjoy flying on?"

"Yes, he was," Molly answers, wiping tears from her eyes and putting an arm around Lucy. "You enjoyed it because he hated flying as much as you, mostly because he couldn't take his guitar with him on a broom, but together you were both filled with confidence. He loop-de-looped James when you flew together once, and James plays for the Kenmare Kestrels now! You've been together for seven years, since the summer before fourth year. 18th of July 2020, that's when he asked you. Three seconds later, that's when you said yes."

"Were we in love?" Lucy asks, her eyes faraway and dreaming. Molly can't help but think of a song, a song Lorcan used to play for them on hazy summer nights, Lucy singing along so prettily, though out-of-tune more often that not.

"Very much so," she whispers in answer. "He would have lifted the sky for you, journeyed to bring you back a fallen star, walked all the way to the South Pole just to see you smile." She stands up, brushing invisible specks of dust from her dress. "C'mon, I have to show you something."

Lucy follows her away from the hammocks, into the collection of the apple trees carefully tended by, as Molly explains, their mother and Lucy when she wasn't reading, dreaming, painting or spending time with Lorcan, Molly and Lysander. Molly stops at a specific tree, removes her wand from behind her ear and murmurs a few words. The moss growing between cracks in the bark shimmers and writhes. Lucy watches in wonder as the green plant twists itself into fantastic shapes in order to create two hearts, side-by-side on the tree.

One, the one placed to the right of a lightning-bolt-shaped crack in the bark, reads _Molly Penelope Weasley and Lysander Nargle Scamander forever! _while the other simply says _Lucy A. Weasley + Lorcan W. Scamander_ in a flowing cursive.

"The **W** stands for Wrackspurt," Molly explains gently. "Rolf gave them their first names, but Luna chose their middle names."

"When did we make these?" Lucy asks, tracing the letter inside her and Lorcan's heart with a delicate finger.

"Last summer, 14th of August," Molly answers in soft tones, smiling at the choppy, excited writing of her and Lysander's heart. "It used to be just a crack, but Lysander said it looked just like Uncle Harry's scar and it was simple fate. Lily helped us a bit with the actual charm. As you can tell, Lysander was more than a bit hasty creating our, but Lorcan took his time over yours. Then we had lemonade in the hammocks. You used to make lemonade, it was the only thing you could make to perfection."

"You and Lysander used to take the hammock with green stripes every time," Lucy recounts slowly. "Lorcan didn't like it because the one with blue stripes has holes in it and a pair of robins used to nest above and sing when we were trying to have a mid-afternoon siesta."

"I swear, those Scamander twins are a pair of lazy arses," Molly says with a wry grin. "But we love them, right, Luce?"

"Right," Lucy murmurs, her eyes still tracing the pretty letters making up her name and Lorcan's.

_Lucy Audrey Weasley and Lorcan Wrackspurt Scamander._

…

Lorcan follows his brother up to the door of Molly and Lucy's residence. Lysander's finger - burnt following an accident with Dalek that morning - hasn't even touched the doorbell when Percy opens the door and inclines his head towards the garden, welcoming them in and showing them where Molly and Lucy are in one movement. Lorcan looks up at him as they pass, soundlessly asking for an opinion.

"We think she's remembering more and more," Percy murmurs. Lorcan's hopes soar and he runs out into the garden, finding Molly and Lucy cross-legged in the grass. Both of them are laughing, the merry sound echoing across the garden, festooned in daisy chains. The flowers gleam at their wrists, their necks, around every finger, around their ankles, their toes, their waists and even low on their hips. Molly's hair is tangled with blades of grass and Lucy's catches the sunlight with every movement.

Lysander joins them, sliding a hand through Molly's hair. She winces and hits him as his none-too-gentle fingers catch on knots in the wiry red curls. He just kisses her between two angry eyes and she giggles, kissing him long and hard.

"Don't make those yucky sounds!" Lucy exclaims with a giggle, throwing a handful of grass at her sister. Lysander sneezes explosively and Lorcan laughs, loudly congratulating Lucy on ruining the moment before it grew any more nauseating.

"After all I've done for you!" Molly exclaims dramatically, looking affronted. "I just spent four hours telling you hundreds of stories and taught you to make daisy chains. I even made breakfast for you!"

"I can't cook," Lucy says simply. "Nothing except lemonade." She winks at a guffawing Lysander and turns to Lorcan. His stomach turns over because she looks so beautiful, more than ever, festooned in flowery jewellery with the sun shining from behind. "Will you play a song on Milhouse for me?"

"Yeah, I told her about you naming your guitar," Molly says with a grin. "All about Homer and Dalek and Milhouse." Lorcan grins back and produces Milhouse with a flourish, sitting down and settling the guitar across his knees. After a few warm-up strums, he begins to play an old favourite and Lucy and Lysander soon begin to sing along, Molly dancing across the newly-mown lawn with her flowery bracelets rotating around her wrists.

"I love the Beatles," Lysander remarks as Lorcan stops playing and Molly collapses onto the grass, quite exhausted from her dancing. Lucy chastises her for tearing daisy chains and begins weaving them again with skilled finger, throwing another three around her sister's neck before Molly can blink.

Lorcan watches Lucy work, her heavy golden locks hanging over her face as she carefully pierces stalks and threads flower heads through holes torn with painted nails. She's beautiful and he can feel himself falling in love with her all over again. Yet he won't kiss her, not until it is diagnosed whether she will recover and remember or…or the alternative he doesn't like to think of.

"It's bloody hot!" Lysander exclaims, looking longingly up at the clouds. "There's water in those clouds."

"Then let's fly up to them!" Molly shouts, running and returning in a cloud of loose grass blades with two brooms. She mounts one, shouting at Lysander as his hands stray a little too far when he gets on behind her, and tossing one to Lorcan. He looks down at Lucy and she smiles and takes his hand.

"Don't worry, we'll do it together," she murmurs. With renewed confidence, he climbs onto the broom and closes her eyes for a moment at the sweet touch of her hands against him when she takes hold to steady herself. With a Tarzan yell, Lysander kicks off and soars upwards. Lorcan grins and follows his twin a split-second later, Lucy laughing loudly behind him.

It is indeed cooler among the clouds, Lysander cheering with joy as he hangs upside-down from the broom and trails his face through the clouds, returning to the land of right-way-up with drops of rain running down his forehead. Molly laughs at his ridiculous antics and steers the broom through a series of heart-stopping drops and quick brakes that leave Lysander screaming and clinging on for dear life, hopeless life, any kind of life.

Lorcan is gentler, conscious of the innocent little girl sat behind him. He goes slow and takes wide turns through the clouds. Lucy trails her fingers through what appears to be no more than white fluff, whipping it into strange shapes. She whispers for him to go faster and, commanding, "Hold on!", he dives down. The wind blows their hair back and whips the scream from Lucy's mouth. He pulls up inches from the ground and they both tumble off.

Lucy lands on top of him, her hair tickling his cheeks and her smiles all he can see. Their eyes meet and both fall silent. She bends her head to kiss him but he shakes his head, pushing her gently back and off him, sitting up but still not letting go of her hand.

"Not yet," he murmurs simply. "Not yet." He expects her to pout and throw a tantrum, sulk with him like the little girl she has become would. But she smiles sweetly and squeezes his hand.

"I understand," she whispers. Never has he wanted to kiss her more than that moment, but he restrains himself with superhuman strength he didn't know he possessed.

He holds her hand too tight and prays harder than ever before.

Only when she remembers will he allow himself to kiss her.

…

Weeks pass in much the same manner. Lucy spends a lot of time familiarising herself with the house, learning the names of all the cats, watching in wonder as Molly teaches her how to use the gramophone, music drifting through the house. They go back all those years to the old tradition of karaoke nights on Saturdays, belting out old Queen and Beatles and ABBA hits and invariably ending up curled up on the sofa, listening to their mother's pretty voice as she sings old folk tunes and accompanies herself on the piano.

Molly performs for her, sometime little scenes of slapstick to make her laugh, other times reciting whole sections of Shakespeare from memory, prompting adoring applause. They read the Narnia books together, Lucy in awe at how he uses words, running her finger wonderingly over the illustrations. Molly finds her working tirelessly at a painting of Aslan late one night and smiles.

Soon the paint splodges of old return to Lucy's skin and clothes, her hair covered in unnatural gold and orange highlights and green smeared across her cheek. She smiles dreamily, painting cats, people, the 'couples' tree' out in the garden, a collection of bright flowers and Molly sitting atop the piano.

Yet she never seems to remember more than fragments. Occasionally some incident from years ago will come to the forefront of her mind, laughing over the smell of burnt curry or Albus blowing apart Grandpa Weasley's favourite chair in a burst of magic. But she doesn't remember everything and Molly has to wonder why.

Initially, she believed that the Memory Charm cast had been inexpert and only wiped the memories for a short time. But with every day without that trigger, without something that has the memories flowing free, she grows more anxious, and wonders if anything will really happen.

Molly Penelope Weasley has always been a strong girl. But this, losing her sister, unable to do anything to help her, destroys her. It tears her up inside and she cries at night with no one to see her.

"Molly, your father and I need to talk to you," her mother says. Casting a glance at Lucy's sleeping form, Molly blows a kiss to her sister and follows her mother down to the kitchen.

Her father already sits with Lorcan and Lysander at the scrubbed table. Tall glasses of pumpkin juice and a large plate of chocolate chip cookies rests in the centre. The number of cookies left is the reason Molly begins to worry. Under normal circumstances, there would be only crumbs left for her, courtesy of Lorcan and Lysander.

"Sit down," her father murmurs, and she takes a seat next to Lysander, placing a hand over his and silently asking what's happening. He gives her a barely perceptible shrug and all three return their attention to Percy, sitting at the head of the table.

"We had a visit from Healer Cross last night, when you'd all gone to bed," her mother begins. "She gave us some information about Lucy's condition." Molly nods in understanding; Healer Cross is the family Healer, and her word is held as highly as Granny Weasley's in their home.

"St. Mungo's have concluded that…they've reached the conclusion that Lucy isn't going to get better," her father explains. "She won't remember beyond what she has before, or the occasional dream memory."

"But Dad, she's been getting loads better!" Molly shouts, rising to her feet. "She's remembered loads of little things, stuff that doesn't really matter and I'm surprised she remembers it so vividly!"

"But she hasn't remembered anything big," her mother whispers sadly. "Nothing like her school days, or dating Lorcan, or anything of her life with us. So we have to make a decision."

"Either we can keep Lucy with us like this, not really remembering any of us, doomed to always have a half-life without any of her previous experiences," her father says gently. "Or we can…we can take her to St. Mungo's and have her…she can be put to sleep."

"WHAT?" Lysander explodes.

…

Lysander is on his feet, breathing as hard as if he's just run a marathon. His eyes are hard as steel, even Molly's gentle hand can't pull him down again. "You mean Lucy is sick and a vegetable so you're going to kill her?"

"You don't understand," Audrey murmurs, tears in her eyes. "Lucy will never truly be happy without her memories. She won't function properly, she won't be happy, she may become slowly more and more ill. She may die prematurely. You don't want that, we don't want that."

"But there must be something else they can do!" Lysander shouts. "Spells, potions, even Muggle methods like electric shock therapy!"

"They tried everything while she was under their care in St. Mungo's and she's had three months at home with us to remember," Audrey whispers. "Nothing worked. This was always going to be the last resort."

"There's really nothing else they can do?" Lysander asks, looking around at them all as if beseeching them to dispel this theory, to reassure him that nothing is really going to happen to Lucy. There's a silence, then Percy shakes his head once, blinking to keep tears from falling. Lysander falls back into his seat, a single teardrop running down his pale face.

"How would she be killed?" Molly asks in a choked voice.

"By a controlled spell in a hospital environment," Percy explains. "There's a building in Yorkshire where the St. Mungo's building for humane death is. She would die warm, comfortable, happy and surrounded by loved ones."

"Yes," Lorcan murmurs. Everyone turns to look at him. He raises a tear-stained face to them and nods. "I'll agree to it. It's what's best for her. She won't be in any more pain. If I really love her, I'll let her go."

Percy puts a hand on Lorcan's shoulder, the closest he'd ever got to hugging the young man. "I'm proud of you, lad. What you're doing takes far more courage than any Gryffindor I've ever known has." Lorcan nods, not trusting himself to speak without simply breaking down.

"We're leaving now," Audrey murmurs. "Healer Cross has made emergency arrangements for us. She's sending an official car to take Lucy there. Lorcan, Molly, you can ride with her. Percy, Lysander and I will follow you in our car." The three young people nod, Lysander kissing Molly and squeezing her hand.

Healer Cross stands by a black car, the windows tinted to make it impossible to see inside and the St. Mungo's emblem of two crossed wands imprinted on the side. Holding back the tears so as not to frighten Lucy, Lorcan and Molly manoeuvre her into the car, holding one of her hands each.

Lysander just manages to give them a wave as he climbs into Percy's car. Lucy waves enthusiastically back while Lorcan and Molly sit still, wrapped up in their own Ministry. Lorcan holds her hand tight, probably too tight, as Healer Cross accelerates smoothly away, keeping quiet, knowing not to disturb their moment of grief.

Lucy chatters excitedly all the way to Yorkshire, speaking of talking lions and mice in armour and paintings and hearts carved into trees. Molly occasionally responds, but mostly looks out of the window, staring unseeingly at the trees and fences that flash by. Lorcan hears crying, but doesn't disturb her.

"And when we die we go to Narnia to be kings and queens," Lucy says. "And if you were a very good person when you were alive, Aslan lets you ride on his back."

Molly lets out a laugh that turns into a sob as they flash past a sign that proclaims they are now entering Yorkshire and requests for them to please drive carefully. Lucy pats her sister comfortingly on the back and begins to recount the tale told many a-time about the great heist of 2019, when James and Louis attempted to ransack Roxanne's secret stash of sweets.

They arrive at the building around lunchtime. It's a non-descript place, a one-story building with shutters painted emerald-green at every window and cheery bright daffodils blooming year-round - with the help of spells and charms - in front of the door. But to the group of Lucy's friend, family and boyfriend approaching, it's a place of evil, a place that will take their ray of sunshine away.

The haughty-looking brunette at the reception desk looks at them with sympathy as Percy gives a name and produces a note from Healer Cross, scribbling his signature with a lucky swan feather quill across numerous forms, no doubt authorising them to do this.

Healer Cross vanishes through a door marked _Staff Only_, most likely gone to make the room ready for the evil deed about to be performed. The receptionist ushers them into a waiting room, pointing out the coffee machine, saying that there's food if anyone is hungry. But no one is. They're all dreading what will come next and determined not to waste their last minutes with Lucy. Even Molly ignores the magazines set out in a perfect geometric pattern on the table.

Audrey sings softly as she brushes Lucy's hair through, letting the lovely golden strands sift through her trembling fingers. The pretty scent of Lucy's floral shampoo wafts over them, causing tears to spring to three pairs of eyes. Audrey holds her emotions back, turning Lucy's mass of gold curls into a neat plait, tying the end with a piece of scarlet ribbon that looks deceptively cheery, fluttering in the slight breeze coming from the open window.

Molly recites a few lines of Shakespeare, speaking for them all with the Bard's beautiful words. Lucy applauds softly, a smile on her lips and Lorcan produced Milhouse, strumming gently at its strings and singing _American Pie_. Molly and Lysander join in and Lucy's voice soars above all, clear as birdsong and just as sweet. Not an eye in the room is dry when the song finally draws to a close.

"Lucy Weasley?" Healer Cross asks, appearing at the door in neat green robes with a white mask over her face. "We're ready for you now." Audrey nods to Lorcan and he follows Lucy from the waiting room, down several corridors and into a room where everything is pure, sterilised, disinfected white. Lorcan gags a little at the smell that sweeps over them and shivers to think of how Lucy's last moments will be.

"What's going to happen, Lorcan?" Lucy asks in a trembling voice. Lorcan realises for the first time that she might know more than they previously thought and takes her hand, holding it too tight again.

"They're going to try a new type of treatment on you," he says, a bitter taste in his mouth from lying to this young, innocent, trusting Lucy who believes every word that leaves his mouth. "Something else to try and bring your memories back."

"Tell me a story," Lucy murmurs, laying her head on his shoulder and looking up at him with pleading, gentle eyes. Looking into those beautiful orbs of blue, Lorcan wonders if he can't just leap up and stop all this. But, no, he'll let it go ahead. He really loves her, so he will let her go. He takes a deep breath in and begins a story that he's heard Lucy tell to young Cecily, to Victoire's little girl.

"Once upon a time there was a princess called Lucy. She was the fairest girl in the land, with golden curls that reached the floor and eyes as blue as the summer skies. She was the heir to the throne, the daughter to the King and Queen who reigned over a happy, peaceful kingdom." Lucy looks up at him with rapt attention, listening closely to this story.

"Princess Lucy met a handsome prince named Lorcan who played the guitar and sang beautiful songs under her window. They fell in love and kissed on a summery evening when the crickets sang and the fireflies lit up the castle gardens. After Prince Lorcan bought her a beautiful diamond ring and slayed a dragon, her mother and father, King Percival and Queen Audriana, allowed Prince Lorcan to marry her. They lived in a magic sugar castle and were very happy. They had ten children; their names were Scarlett, Ryan, Louise, Rosanna, Donald, Madeline, Christopher, Jason, Aimee and Brandon. Then they became King and Queen and ruled very happily over the peaceful kingdom for many many years. In short, they lived happily-ever-after."

"Princess Lucy is like me," Lucy whispers. "And Prince Lorcan is _just _like you." Lorcan nods and takes her hands.

"I love you, Lucy," he murmurs. "I love you, I love you, I love you. I love you so much." He finally gives in to the urge he's had every day for three months and kisses her, rejoicing in the familiarity of her sweet lips on his. She kisses him back and he can feel the happiness emanating from her, wondering if similar choirs of angels are singing in her head.

"I'm really nervous," she remarks as they draw apart. "I haven't been so nervous since the morning of 11th August 2023, right before I opened my NEWT results." Lorcan stops in his tracks, stunned by her words. He looks at her, seeing her mouth open in slight wonder.

"What did you say?" he asks, hurrying to take her hands. "This is really important, Luce. Tell me what you said."

"I said I haven't been so nervous since 11th August 2023, before I opened my NEWT results," Lucy repeats slowly. "Oh, Lorcan, I remember! I remember everything! I remember how Mum smelt when I was handed to her the day I was born! I remember it as clearly as yesterday! I _remember_!" Her eyes roll back in her head and she collapses in a dead faint, into his waiting arms.

Healer Cross rushes in, her eyes flying to the unconscious Lucy, to the pretty girl in Lorcan's arms, to the smile on his face.

"What happened?" she asks. "I heard shouting, but I can't be sure exactly what was said."

"Lucy remembered!" Lorcan shouts ecstatically. "I kissed her, and said I loved her, and she remembered everything!"

"It seems the kiss was the trigger that caused the final vestiges of the Memory Charm to leave and brought back her memories," Healer Cross says, appearing a little shocked. "Well done, Mr. Scamander!" She smiles at him and manages to hug him.

They leave ten minutes later in a happy, shouting mess, Lysander and Lorcan carrying Lucy between them.

"Will your parents mind awfully if you stay with us again?" Audrey asks as they climb into Percy's car, waved off by a grinning Healer Cross.

"Actually, you can stay with us," Lysander says, unable to wipe the goofy grin from his face. "We're much closer and Mum won't mind at all having you over."

Audrey nods and Percy stamps on the accelerator so they roar down the motorways, all the windows open and the entire metal body of the vehicle pounding with old Muggle tunes that they sing along to louder and louder.

"I'll admit, I imagined carrying you across the threshold in quite a different way," Lorcan says ruefully to Lucy's unconscious form as he bears her through the doorway to his family home, up the stairs and into the fully-functional guest room. There he reluctantly leaves her to eat downstairs.

"To true love, that most powerful thing in the world, that thing worth fighting for!" Molly shouts, thrusting her glass of Firewhisky into the air. "To true love, that thing that saved my sister from death!" Everyone cheers and their glasses smash together, all of them drinking deeply.

Night falls and the older couples retire to bed with sleepy smiles and goodnight hugs. Molly and Lysander walk outside to greet Homer the unicorn, arms around each other. A sliver of crescent moon gleams beside the evening star and Lorcan looks up at the gleaming pinpoint of light, nodding his head.

"Thank you," he murmurs. "Thank you for letting my wish come true."

Ascending the twisting staircase, he takes up position in the guest room, sentinel in the most comfortable armchair by Lucy's bed. He tenderly brushes errant strands of her from her smiling face, quite peaceful in repose and kisses her forehead.

"Love you," he whispers over the slumbering body. He huddles down in the armchair and falls asleep to dream of her and only her, of the children they're going to have, of the good life, of this house on the hillside where they will stay, forever and always.

He dreams of his happy-ever-after, and has no more reason to pray.

…

Lucy awakes to gentle birdsong, the whinnying of Homer down in his paddock and Lorcan's even breathing. She sits up, her head still spinning with the force of so many moments in her life rushing back at once and looks over at him.

"Wake up, you lazy arse," she shouts, startling him to consciousness. He looks over at her, grinning and taking her hand.

"Luce, I love you and everything, but please, never wake me up like that again," he says in dramatised irritation. His voice softens and becomes incredibly tender. "How do you feel?"

"My head's still spinning, but I feel amazing," she says. "I love you. Will you tell me what was really going on yesterday?" Lorcan looks at her with feigned innocence, appearing shocked that she would even think he was lying. "Don't give me that look, _you _don't have Molly's thirteen years of theatre training to convince me you're telling the truth."

"We'd given up hope for you ever remembering everything again and taken you to the clinic to be killed by humane spell," Lorcan explains. "Turns out all you needed was a kiss. From me."

"Well, if that isn't going to do wonders for your already over-inflated ego," Lucy remarks wryly. Lorcan winks at her and takes her hand.

"All those three months, I wanted to kiss you so much," he confides. "But I wouldn't let myself do it until you remembered. But, when you were about to leave me forever, I had to. Best thing I ever did." Lucy smiles over at him.

"Why did you want to kiss me so much?" she asks. "I don't understand."

"Because you're a part of me, Lucy," he whispers. "I've known you for sixteen years, loved you for nine and been your official one-and-only for seven. I adore you, I don't want to ever leave you or have you leave me and you're _beautiful_."

"Don't be silly, I'm not beautiful," Lucy says bashfully, blushing slightly.

Lorcan took her hands and leant his forehead against hers, looking right into her eyes. "Good morning, beautiful," he whispers solemnly, kissing her forehead even as tears spring to her eyes.

Lucy smiles, finally understanding. Her memories have returned, but really, every memory she wants to keep close to her heart is reflected in this man sitting with her, in his silvery eyes, in the tendrils of dirty blonde hair hanging over his face, in the tenderness of his smile. She loves him and he loves her, and nothing will ever change that. Princess Lucy and Prince Lorcan, happily ever after. Ruling on high over a peaceful, bliss-filled, happy kingdom forever more.

And so he takes her in his arms and kisses her memories whole again.

* * *

><p>wipes tear/ Oh dear, I appear to have made myself cry.

Ahem...

I hope y'all enjoyed this crazy ride and the twists surprised you. Tell me if they did, perhaps in a review? ;D

If you like this enough to favourite, please don't without reviewing, thanks :)


End file.
